


Monsters

by DapperSkull



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: Gen, No Nanite Event AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:12:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DapperSkull/pseuds/DapperSkull
Summary: A retired mercenary vs the five year old hell bent on destroying his Gardenias.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so my friend has this head canon that knight's first name is adam.  
> But I'm mostly gonna refer to him and six by their code names aite? Ok. I don't even have a name for Six.  
> no nanite event au guys w/infrequent updates  
> Not beta read ahah good luck I wrote this at 11:00 pm

 

Adam is familiar with monsters.

He's battled them in his sleep, woke up sweating in the middle of the night when their vicious smiles filled his head, their weapons ready to riddle holes into him and his partner. At the age of 35, retired with prematurely greying hair from his life of taking other people's lives, Adam knew a thing or two about monsters.

But that wasn't quite accurate enough.

 _Adam,_ was dead. He had died a long time ago when he failed to feel anything after the death of a man by his hand, having lost count of how many people that had been in total. Adam (code name The White Knight) was no longer Adam. He had become a changed man over time, so much that this little suburban life felt so suffocating. He was familiar with monsters because he was one, and was simply wearing Adam's skin. It never quite fit him after settling down with Six, pulled over his bones like a stretch of latex over a jagged knife. He would look out the windows in the afternoons to the school girls and boys crossing the street, mothers and fathers going about their day, as the world continued to spin unware. A killer had slipped his way into the part of the world that he shouldn't have been a part of. All the blood that had been spilled over the course of years was rendered meaningless; there was never a consequence, a punishing eye, or fearful look. Whatever he buried in the past might as well have been a white collar crime.

Six had suggested getting a hobby to occupy his time, that it was the lack of things to do making him feel this way. What he was really telling him was to find something to distract his mind. Knight had a distraction when they were still working. It had always been preparing for the next mission, or training. What was he to do now? Play violent video games like a teenage child?

"What do you suggest, Six?" He scoffed, his murderous hands spotted with imagined blood (there was a reason he liked keeping everything clean and white),"I start gardening?"

"It's not a bad idea." Six said tonelessly, not looking up from his reading.

 

So Knight started his own garden. In the afternoons he would sit on his front porch and water the plants that soon blossomed under his care. Knight didn't take pride in the fact that they were the nicest in the neighborhood (this was a lie), the fact that he had done something productive was simply a nice thought, a reward on its own. Six had been right, he had just needed something to fill his hours. The bleak and hollow feeling of depression did not ease away as simple as that, but the distraction during the day took his mind away from it.

And then _that little monster_ moved in next door.

Knight could understand getting a child a puppy, hell even a snake. Who bought a kid a _monkey?_

Together, the little monster and the monkey, trampled over the flower bed, killing months of hard work in a matter of seconds. They didn't seem to realize they were stomping all over the one good thing in his world aside from Six. Knight had to remind himself that this was a child who didn't know any better, he had to hold his breath and count to ten in his head as he watched the destruction of his personal therapy from his front porch.

The Frisbee the boy was playing with was suddenly hurled through Knight's window with impressive strength, shattering the glass. Finally the boy seemed to realize Knight was standing right there and looked very much like a caught vandal. That's probably because he was.

"I'm calling your parents."

 


	2. Chapter Two

 After the incident in the garden, the neighbors invited Knight over in a gesture of peace.

The little monster's name was actually Rex. His parents were scientists named Rafael and Violeta Salazar, and he had a brother named Caesar. Knight didn't care about that though. This boy murdered his gardenias.

"We're very sorry about our son. He can be very energetic at times." Violeta apologized, "We'll pay you for the damages and Rex will help you replant every one of the flowers he killed. Isn't that right?" 

She gave Rex a very sharp look which he cringed away from. It took several seconds for him to slowly nod in agreement.

Knight was slightly mollified that the child's parents were disciplining him. There was nothing more annoying than pushover parents who let their brats get away with everything. Nevertheless, he eyed the little monster's expression, not fully believing he meant it. He didn't want his parents to pay for something their brat did though, what lesson would the kid learn then? Knight had more money than he ever needed anyway. Mercenary life left him a pretty penny, so he could easily pay to replace his dearly departed flowers. But it wasn't about the money it had taken to raise those flowers, it was the meaning and time that went into it.

"You can keep your money..." Knight said, not unkindly, setting his coffee down, "And I don't really need his help around my yard."

He'd most likely do more harm than good.

"I said sorry a'ready." the little monster said in a low tone, "Bobo broke your window and crushed the flowers more than me."

"Did I not tell you to keep him in the cage in the Backyard, Rex?" Rafael said warningly.

Rex's eyes shifted away guiltily.

Knight let the issue drop after that meeting, leaving only with a polite request that Rex's parents keep him off his property so that he didn't have to see the kid ever again (it was phased much nicer than that). He wasn't a petty grudge holder, and it wasn't like Rex would learn a lesson from any punishing yard work. He probably quit sucking his thumb only a year ago, this experience was something he would forget the next day. Civilian kids didn't retain information very well, which was why they were so accident prone. You could tell a six year old not to stick a fork in the electrical outlet, try and explain the reason why it wasn't ideal, but half of them would proceed to do it anyway. Like pouring water into a strainer. 

He was not a "fan" of children.

Six wasn't home by the time Knight got back. From the empty contents of their fridge, Knight could only assume he was picking up supplies at the grocers. They were out of milk. There went his intended drink for the evening.

The retired Mercenary fell into his seat on the white sofa, drained from the social interaction. He had intended to ignore the neighbors for as long as possible, or until necessity deemed he couldn't, which wasn't likely-- Knight never needed anybody (except Six, his partner, friend). The lack of preparation he had for that morning is what struck him the most in the end, making his shoulders a heavy weight on his body. His chest felt tight. Once again the walls were confines too small to fit him.

He flipped on the television, staring at the screen without watching. It might as well have been playing static.

Now he was left empty. Knight was a stranger to his home. He could not even say it was his home, not really. _The_ home. He could play the part all he wanted to, disguise it with flowers and clean white furniture, but he and Six were not like the neighborly Salazars. Maybe the kid had done right by squashing the life from those flowers. It was life telling him he couldn't hide from who he was, the child's laughter an obvious message: _Any life able to sprout_ _under your hand is just as sinful as you._  He was a foreign encroacher, a bloody wolf among a flock of sheep--

 

_Click_

 

The loading of a gun. The sound bullet shells made when hitting the pavement.

 

No, it was the shutting of the door.

 

Six was home.

Like a needle to a balloon, his presence snapped Knight out of his self loathing. He almost felt embarrassed for getting so worked up over flowers, not having noticed how much time had passed. He rubbed a hand over his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

Six didn't say anything when he walked into the livingroom. He didn't even bat an eye at Knight's 'choice' of television program, which just happened to be some kid's network about the latest teenage girl with dreams of being a singer. Six made no comment at all, moving to shut the television off manually.

His touch on Knight's shoulder was the final hook that grounded him to earth.

"I brought milk." Six said instead of asking whether or not anything was wrong, while remaining as nonjudgemental as always.

Knight managed a nod toward his roommate, promising he'd get up in just a moment. When Six left to put away food, Knight suddenly found he could breathe easier.


	3. Chapter 3

A dark cloud of smog left his lips, twisting and curling around them, polluting the air.

Six was forced to breathe it in, secondhand smoke filling his lungs. It burned in the worst way, but ignoring it was fine for now. He wasn’t suffering through it, and even if it could be called that, he’d suffered much worse than a breath of dirtied air. He just assumed Knight had stopped smoking. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Knight snorted at him, ash falling from his cigarette butt. It stained the tidy white floor a smudgy black. 

“You’re not coping well with retirement.”

“Mhm.” 

It didn’t look like Six was going to get a proper response from him. He wanted to end it there but something didn’t feel quite right about leaving things in the dark. There were some things you simply didn’t press another man to tell you, he could respect that much. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, dark ‘unspeakables’ not meant for the ears of others. If Knight asked Six about his hang ups, he would deny him the very same way. It was simply not something that concerned him. They were close enough to be considered comrades, friends even, but neither of them particularly wanted to discuss the ghosts that haunted them. He shouldn’t ask Knight to bare his heart out to him.

But a part of him wanted to. 

He hadn’t a clue why he couldn’t, something that definitely went beyond respecting privacy. 

It was still too early for the day to begin. The sun hadn’t risen, and even if it had, their day would be no different than the last. Or the day before that one. Or the day before that. So on. So on.   
That was fine for Six. He was used to routine. 

Knight blew a huff of smoke out of his mouth. 

“Do you have another to spare?” Six nodded to the stick in between his fingers. Smoking had never been a strong habit of his, never something he struggled not to do. Like with every other thing he did, he was a very controlled person. It helped that the taste of smoke wasn’t something he cared for. He was only asking to show Knight solidarity. Retirement hadn’t hit him as hard as the silver haired man, but adjusting was slow. 

Knight tossed a stick into his open hand

“Lighter’s in the kitchen.” Knight informed him but there was no need. Six leaned in, touching the end of his cigarette to the one hanging from Knight’s mouth. It shocked Knight so still, the action widening his eyes as he watched him. His ears burned madly by the time Six leaned away. Gruffly, the silver haired man jerked his gaze to the window in embarrassment.

It was silent after that, a comfortable silence that stretched on until the sun had risen, setting the pale white walls of their livingroom aglow. 

“I met the neighbors.” Knight finally prattled out. It was easy to forget sometimes that he had been the most talkative of their two man group during their Mercenary days. There wasn’t anything to talk about lately, most days passing by quietly. Sometimes, it didn’t feel like they were really living in the same house, that he and Six were just occupying the same spaces in the same manner as magnets that never touched. He wondered if it was hard for Knight, who was used to human interaction. Six didn’t sympathize, the quiet was something he liked, but he was capable of understanding the things that Knight needed. Things that… human beings needed. 

So he responded, out of pity if anything, “Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

There was an awkward pause and then-

“Knight,” Six stated, blowing warm smoke out of his mouth, “If you need to talk to me you can.”

But they both knew very well that the statement was untrue

Bad habits. It was a bad habit. It wasn’t a lie that Six was fully in control of most aspects of his life, but even he wasn’t immune to all habits. He now realized exactly why he couldn’t have that heart to heart with Knight. It wasn’t a privacy issue, it was just that Six didn’t know what he could say. His inability to discuss what ate away inside them, coupled with the need to give the other man personal space (as well as maintain his own) was something that was just going to get in the way. 

“Aren’t I already talking?”


	4. Four

Milk wasn’t Six’s beverage of choice. The only reason its carton had any place on his fridge shelf was because White Knight enjoyed it. It was childlike in a way, watching the grown man enjoy a glass before bed and something sweet sometimes too. But then again, on bad days, he’d seen him knock back a few beers like it was water. It was hard putting ‘childlike’ and ‘Knight’ in the same sentence, regardless of his habits. The need for alcohol was not without reason either.

There were studies which found that it was primarily people whose ancestors came from places where dairy herds could be raised safely and economically, such as in Europe, who had developed the ability to digest milk. Whether or not this was true and had a hand in Six’s avoidance of milk was irrelevant, his preferences were respected.

An Ice Cream truck passed through the neighborhood every afternoon, at the exact same time, without fail. Sickeningly, the truck sang domesticity in its lyricless melody meant to lure children from their homes or play areas. Civilian kids were too naive. If he had been this way, If Six had ever been so trusting, it was certainly ripped out of him quickly. Had it not been, he probably wouldn’t have lived for as long as he had.

It wasn’t so much that he paid attention to neighborhood affairs, so much as it was  a subconscious habit for him to recognize pattern and routine. If something seemed out of place, he would know. If something seemed _suspiciously_ out of place, he would know.

Knight had disappeared for the afternoon to god knew where. Six hadn’t asked. Wasn’t really his business. This left him alone for once, reading in the privacy of his backyard. He leaned against the awning post, attempting to tune out the annoying jingle of the Ice Cream Truck. They should have picked a more secluded location to retire in.

When the song began fading further away, eventually too far to be heard, the silence that followed was welcomed.

 

“Hello?”

 

Until it was broken.

 

Six looked up from his book, to the wooden fence where a small boy was clinging on with all the might of a single hand, peering over. His fingers were digging into the wood to keep himself elevated. It was impressive considering his size in relation to the fence. But he was staring down at Six like this wasn’t an invasion of privacy.

Children were fine.

 

So long as they did not interact with Six.

 

And maintained their distance.

 

And didn’t cry.

 

Or scream.

 

And kept silent.

This was coming from a man who held no animosity toward children. Because everyone had been a kid, and there were moments were Six himself felt reduced to nothing more than a child once again. When he awoke to dark places, or found non existent enemies in shadows. So logic followed, and he understood, that children… were just people.

But he didn’t quite know how to deal with them. The same rang true for people in _general._

“Can I help you?” Six asked him, flipping his book shut.

“I’m Rex.”

That wasn’t an answer really.

“I know.”

Rex’s breath hitched. Brown eyes filled with suspicion and disbelief, lips pursing as he mulled over those two simple words. Six knew his question before he even got it out. _How did you know that? I don’t believe you. Liar._ It was evident on his face.

Instead, Rex’s chin tilted slightly up and chanced a guess at how Six knew him.

“Well, _I know_ you know.” He said, “My Mama and my Papa, they’re M’portant scientists.”

And he was wrong. Six didn’t know of him through his parents, though he did know them too. They were neighbors in a small area and it was hard not to pick up on things like that when you were trained to pay attention detail. That, and the fact that The Salazars had invited Knight over one afternoon after their kid trotted all over his garden. Privately, that amused him. Knight’s defensiveness over delicate _flowers_ of all things was… oddly endearing? A _private_ thought that would never leave his lips.

“Yes.” Six agreed, “They sound _very_ important.”

Now go away kid.

“Do you want an ice cream?” Rex asked him, raising his hand to show the Vanilla ice cream pop he had clutched into his fist by the stick. It was already starting to melt though, dribbling sticky sugar all over his knuckles.

Six grimaced.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like ice cream.”

“Everyone likes ice cream!”

“I don’t.” Six replied, watching shock flicker across his features.

“But why?”

“ _Rex!_ Mama told you not to bother the neighbors anymore!” came the sound of another (young) boy’s voice. Rex seemed to stiffen and he slid down off of the fence.

“I _wasn’t!_ ” Rex’s fading voice yelled, enraged,” Don’t tell, Caesar! I’m gonna break your bike!”

Kids...

Kids were _tolerable_.


End file.
